


Interplanetary Trash Talk

by monobuu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: And Saturn, Bucky argues with the sky, Dorks in Love, Drinking, Drunk Bucky Barnes, Drunken Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Trash Talking Mars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 07:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monobuu/pseuds/monobuu
Summary: Bucky is a space dork. And also, currently, drunk.Tony is in love already.





	1. Fuck you, Mars!

“Tony!”

Tony turned to find Steve Rogers headed his way, big and jovial and 110% ready to hug the shit out of Tony if Tony didn’t do something like hide behind Natasha, which, where the hell had she run off to? 

He endured the hug. Steve was the host and Tony liked hugs, there really wasn’t a downside other than the humiliating experience of being lifted off his feet by someone who was at least ten years his junior.

And besides, Tony had been late. It was the least he could do.

“Thanks for coming,” Steve said once Tony was back on his feet. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“How could I possibly pass up a chance to meet all of your friends?” Tony replied, dusting off his suit jacket idly. “I bet they have the best stories of all the times you made a fool out of yourself.”

Steve laughed and Tony grinned. 

Steve had been his friend for almost two years now, but Tony was only vaguely familiar with the man’s large and expansive group of friends. As someone who hadn’t had more than three or four trusted acquaintances within the past couple decades, Tony found himself a little surprised each time some new name popped up in one of Steve’s stories.

As it were, this party in particular was a celebration for one of Steve’s closest group of friends - those who’d served with him in the army. Upon the end of their contract, they’d mostly settled on the west coast, except for Steve, but now some big job opportunity for them had come up and they had moved, en masse, to New York. Steve had been talking about it for months now, excited that they were finally going to be in the same city once more.

“So who do I need to meet?” Tony asked. He brought his glass to his lips, taking a sip of plain old seltzer water before raising his eyebrows at Steve.

“Well,” Steve said, glancing around. The party was being held outside, in the backyard of Steve’s apartment building, which sported an array of picnic tables and awnings in case the weather turned bad. They had been decorated with small strings of lanterns, candles and torches and those smoke rings that kept mosquitoes away - all coordinated by their mutual friend Natasha, no doubt. She was a caterer by trade, so it was sort of her thing.

“Sam and Clint are over there,” Steve murmured, then stuck those big fingers of his into his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Most of the people jumped at the sound, glancing around to find out where it had come from and then going back to their conversations once they discovered it hadn’t been intended for them. But both Sam and Clint - Tony assumed - snapped their heads up to look Steve’s way and then immediately headed over.

“Where the hell is Bucky?” Steve asked, once they were in earshot, foregoing introductions entirely.

“I’ll do you one better,” Sam replied. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

“Don’t-” Steve tried, only to be interrupted.

“I’ll do you one better,” Clint added enthusiastically. “Why the hell is Bucky?”

Steve sighed as the other two laughed and it must be a sort of inside joke, because Tony didn’t get it at all. “I want to introduce Tony to everyone,” Steve explained through a suppressed smile. “Gonna need Bucky and Gamora for that.”

“Who is-?”

“Do not,” Steve said, hand darting out to clamp over Clint’s grinning face. “Once was enough.”

“I think I saw Buck over by-” Sam started, but drifted off as his eyes caught on something over Steve’s shoulder. Everyone turned in the same direction to see what had snagged Sams attention, only to find-

The hottest guy Tony had ever seen. And he was friends with Steve fucking Rogers.

He was tall, broad, and built like a tank. Longer brown hair that was currently pulled into a messy tail high on his head, wisps and renegade strands left to fall haphazardly around a jaw that looked absolutely delicious with a five o’clock shadow. If Tony had a type, and Pepper kept insisting that he did, this guy would check almost all of those boxes.

The hot guy had a beer in one hand, and with his other, he pointed viciously up at the sky.

“What is he-” Steve started to mutter.

“Fuck you, Mars!” the man shouted aggressively, and most of the party promptly stopped talking to listen.

“Oh, shit,” Clint whispered gleefully. “Did someone give him vodka?”

“Natasha,” Steve grumbled, running a hand over his face.

“What didja do!?” the man continued, only slurring slightly as he stepped back, as if to get a better, more judgemental look at Mars. “Ya let yer molten core solidify, didn’t ya! Ya idiot!”

Sam was laughing, Clint was eagerly sipping his beer to hide his own laughter, and Steve was too busy sighing heavily to explain any of this to Tony.

“What’dja do that for?” the man asked, condescending. “Now yer lack of a magnetic field has allowed solarwinds to destroy yer atmosphere and life is unsustainable on ya!  You’re an asshole!”

Natasha appeared out of nowhere and slung an arm over the angry man’s shoulders despite the vast height difference, guided him towards Steve’s little gathering of people, and Tony was delighted to get a better look at him. Light blue eyes that almost glowed silver in the low lights of the outdoor party and what looked like a prosthetic arm that Tony hadn’t noticed before.

“Ooh, look at me, I’m Mars!” the angry man said as he approached, hands going up as if to humorously show how unimpressed he was with the planet. “I might have had water on me at some point!”

He pointed his prosthetic hand at the ground.

“Lookit this!”

Everyone obediently looked.

“It’s a puddle!” the man yelled. “We got shittons of ‘em! Everywhere!”

The man brought his beer to his lips, took a sip as he eyes landed on Tony. “Hey Saturn, nice rings! It’s a shame yer gravity is so powerful anyone standing on yer surface couldn’t lift their head to look at ‘em!” he said, eyes still on Tony but criticism still clearly aimed at their solar system.

“Oh!” he added, like he’d made the sickest burn in the past decade.

Steve sighed heavily. “Tony, this is Bucky.”

This was Bucky? The infamous James Buchanan Barnes that Steve had sung praises about every single chance he’d gotten?

“He’s normally not so…” Steve trailed off.

“Loud?” Natasha offered, arms crossed as she raised an eyebrow.

“Obnoxious,” Sam put in helpfully.

“Drunk,” Clint said happily.

“Adorable?” Tony guessed, because clearly Bucky was a giant space nerd and Tony could definitely get behind that.

So to speak.

“Embarrassing,” Steve finished.

“There was a marathon on the Discovery Channel,” Natasha explained easily, shrugging. “He’s been watching it all day.”

“Interplanetary trash talk,” Bucky said, pointing a finger-gun at Tony. “Gets all the fellas.”

“Bucky,” Steve groaned, hand going out to block the entirety of Bucky’s face in an attempt to stop him from, what, flirting with Tony?

No. Bad Steve.

“Try none of the fellas,” Sam countered. “You have got a serious lack of game, white boy.”

“Here, here,” Clint agreed, raising his beer.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Tony said casually, watching as Bucky tugged Steve’s hand down and away from his face. Bucky’s eyes were still on Tony’s, and Tony was fairly certain he could get used to that real quick.

“It’s kinda working on this fella,” Tony said, smirking.

Bucky grinned.


	2. Werewolves vs Astrology

They were all sitting around the table they’d finally managed to snag fifty minutes and two rounds of shots after they’d entered the dive bar Clint had insisted on visiting after that “travesty of a drag show, honestly being a queen is not just putting on a pair of tits and pitching your voice high, it’s an art form!” and Tony was snuggled in nice and close to Bucky on one side of the booth. Steve, Sam and Clint occupied the other side, with Natasha out on the floor, drink in hand and threatening various men into dancing with her. How she managed to twist and shimmy without spilling a drop out of her martini had always been an impressive mystery to Tony, who could only vaguely manage the basic bump and grind of night clubs with too many neon lights.

It seemed to suit Bucky just fine, however, so Tony never let it bother him too much. Speaking of-

“You’re not allowed to order another round of shots, Buck,” Steve was saying, almost shouting, over the din of the bar.

“Why not?” Bucky asked, insulted. His arm was thrown across the back of the booth, hand curving around to play with the hairs at the nape of Tony’s neck, and Tony was only vaguely paying attention to the argument, but he was well aware that Bucky was, shall we say,  _well into his cups_.

“Because the last round you ordered was grapefruit jalapeños Svedka,” Sam said. “And I’m not putting that shit in my mouth again.”

“That’s what she said,” Clint quipped with a giggle, then sobered. “But, uh, also me. I say that. No more shots, Barnes.”

“You guys are all gutless assholes,” Bucky grumbled like he was working himself up to an argument.

“Tony,” Steve said, only slightly desperate because the debacle that was three a.m. fluffed marshmallow jello shots regularly haunted Steve’s dreams, if his impromptu therapy sessions with Tony were anything to go by. Bucky, apparently, took a sadistic sort of glee in making his friends drink the most unique (read: vile) drinks he could find. And they couldn’t even give him shit about it because he drank it right along with them.

“Hmm?” Tony hummed at Steve.

“Distract him,” Steve said, hand covering his eyes. “Please.”

“Okay,” Tony said, because that was easy. Too easy.

“Bucky, darling, sweet honey of my life?” Tony began, and Bucky turned, argument about the virtues of grapefruits and jalapeños dying on his lips. When Tony had his boyfriend’s full attention, he waited for a dramatic second before finishing.

“Werewolves versus astrology,” Tony said. “Go.”

Steve jerked his head out of his hands with a panicked sort of look and Tony just grinned.

“Pro-werewolf, anti-astrology,” Bucky said decisively. “The moon isn’t gonna fucking dictate your mood, that’s ridiculous.”

Bucky took a drink of his cocktail, honestly anything could be in that drink, Bucky ordered some weird shit, and then slammed it down onto the table. “The moon can’t tell you how you feel  _emotionally_ ,” he emphasized. “That’s silly.”

“Do tell,” Tony encouraged.

“No, don’t,” Steve muttered uselessly.

“Well, even though, I mean,” Bucky said, hand waving this way and that over the table, like he was second guessing himself. “I guess the moon does dictate the tides, because that’s gravity,” he admitted, then took one of the glasses of water the waitress had given them and held it up over the table.

And then proceeded to dump the entire glass out.

The other men, understandably, shouted their dismay as they tried to dodge the cascade of ice water that was now running off the table into their laps. Tony idly wondered if Bucky had  _known_ the table was tilted away from them and towards the others, or if it had been entirely by luck that they’d avoided ice on their nether bits.

“Boom,” Bucky said, gesturing emphatically with the empty glass. “That’s the effect gravity has on water. And we’re 70% water…”

Bucky tossed the cup to the side, where it skittered across the table and off - only just caught it time by Steve’s quick reflexes - so that he could put a hand to his chin without removing his other arm from Tony. Tony appreciated the gesture.

“Y’know,” Bucky hummed, “there might actually be some science to that.”

“Really?” Tony asked.

“No,” Bucky decided abruptly. “Nope. I’m calling bullshit on that science!”

“Oh, my god,” Sam said.

It was like Bucky was arguing himself, and Tony loved every bit of it. Steve, however, was glaring at Tony specifically, like this was his fault or something.

“But I do think that when there’s no shadow cast upon that same moon, a select few of us become dog people that roam the planet,” Bucky continued. “I will ignore all science and stand strictly in a faith-based position-

“Politically, I’m liberal,” Bucky clarified to Steve, as if Steve  _needed_ Bucky’s political position explained to him in order to understand why Bucky didn’t believe in astrology but was at the head of every pussy-hat-wearing march on government that took place within a hundred-mile radius of where he was at any given time.

“Supernaturally?” Bucky continued, “Very conservative. I ignore all science and proof and I go with my heart, Steve. That’s what I do, I go with my heart,” he finished, gesturing emphatically to where his heart was located.

“That’s right, baby,” Tony agreed, covering Bucky’s hand with his own.

There was an awkward pause when Bucky’s argument seemed to have concluded but, not wanting to encourage him into  _more_ ranting by saying the wrong thing, nobody said a word. Tony was patting Bucky’s hand happily while Bucky himself gave Tony what Tony lovingly called ‘Heart Eyes.’

“I meant kiss him or something,” Steve said angrily, breaking the relative silence. “Not encourage him.”

“Agreed,” Clint said.

Tony gave Clint an unimpressed look. “You mean to tell me you would rather watch us play tonsil hockey than have to listen to my Sun and Stars explain his thought process on whether or not it’s appropriate to say ‘god bless you’ to a cat because the cat doesn’t have a belief system in place that requires blessings from deities? I call bullshit.”

“What?” Clint asked. “Why would you say ‘god bless you’ to a cat, Barnes, you don’t-”

“Well you have to ask yourself,” Bucky said with absolutely no hesitation. “Do you say ‘god bless you’ because you actually  _want_ the cat to be blessed after the sneeze or because you put on this outward parade of politeness – because deep down inside you think you’re a bad person, but if you wear this mask of kindness with ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s and ‘god bless you’s to cats, nobody’ll get close enough to realize you think you’re a bad person, right? But you gotta be careful because cats see into your soul, man, it is _intense,_  and they  _know_.”

“ _Why_  would you do that?” Sam asked, glaring at Clint.

“Did you learn  _nothing_  from the past ten minutes?” Steve added.

“Hey guys,” Natasha said, appearing from the crowd and sliding into the booth on the other side of Bucky. “What’d I miss?”

“NO!” the other three shouted at once as Bucky opened his mouth.

Tony just snuggled further into Bucky’s side and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Kyle Kinane's standup.
> 
> Find me on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Ed Byrnes’ standup.
> 
> Find me on tumblr!


End file.
